


Love For A Brotha

by TheWriterinFlannel



Series: Black Panther Prompts via Tumblr [3]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Black!Reader - Freeform, Erik Killmonger Redemption, Explicit Language, Redemption, someone needs to mourn Erik, use of the n-word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 01:13:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterinFlannel/pseuds/TheWriterinFlannel
Summary: julzbrezy asked: Could you do a fic where T'Challa learns Erik has a half sister and decided to bring her to Wakanda to decide what to do with her brother? She possible brings N'Jobu ashes? She cusses out the ancestors? Mourns in public and shaming the elders? Her, T'Challa and Shuri bonding? I just really need some angst and SOMEONE mourning Erik!You, Erik's sister, are brought back to Wakanda to arrange your brother's funeral. The elders look down their noses at you but you refuses to be disrespected. Erik's plan may not have been the best, but he's heart was in the right place.~~~~~~~~~Okay, so I love this prompt so much that I'm just going to make it a series. Get ready for some Redemption Erik!!!!





	Love For A Brotha

You never agreed with Erik’s plan; to be honest, you thought that his plan was really fucking stupid. Sure, Erik wasn’t wrong about his sentiment; black people needed help, but starting a war and recolonizing the world wouldn’t get black people that help. You had tried to speak some sense into him after you heard about King T’Chaka’s death, but Erik wasn’t having it. 

 

“You don’t fuckin’ understand, Y/N. These niggas got the resources to help every other nigga out here and they ain’t doin’ shit, sis.”

 

You had just waved him off; you knew he was type crazy but you didn’t expect him to really go off to Wakanda and start some shit.

  
  


“He has a sister, ya know,” Everett Ross said to the king. T’Challa’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, “What do you mean a sister?” Everett pursed his lips before diving into an explanation of Killmonger and his unwavering love of his older sister, Y/N. “She was his mom’s kid. N’Jobu, your uncle, raised her as his own.”

 

T’Challa couldn’t believe this; he had been under the assumption that no one would  _ really _ miss Killmonger, but now he had to deal with the fact that the man had a sister. The king pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes. Killmonger was proving to be more trouble than he was worth, even after death. Okoye seemed to think the same thing based on her exhausted sigh.

 

“Well, we need to find her now, don’t we? We can’t just get rid of her brother’s body and not tell her,” Shuri spoke up. Queen Mother looked at her, obviously upset with the statement. “Do we really,” the queen asked.

 

“Mother! Of course we do. What if T’Challa died and whoever killed him simply stowed away his body and didn’t tell us? Huh, mother?! What if,” Shuri protested. As much as Shuri disliked Killmonger, she didn’t want to disrespect him or his death; not like her father had with his own brother. T’Challa begrudgingly agreed, “out of respect for his family,” the king stated.

 

“So, where does Y/N live?”

  
  


Your first sign that shit went down was when Linda was found dead in an old aircraft junk yard. You knew Erik didn’t really love the girl but shit, you didn’t expect murder. Okay, you did expect murder just not such an unorganized one. 

 

Your second sign was King T’Challa of Wakanda. The man, accompanied by an armored, ebony skinned woman. T’Challa softly introduced himself and asked if he could be let in.

 

You knew Erik went to Wakanda, so this definitely had to do with him; maybe he got arrested. Reluctantly, you opened the door to your apartment wider. T’Challa and his guard walked in, taking in the the cozy decor, most of it Wakandan tapatries and gifts from before N’Jobu died.

 

You lead the pair into the living room, offering water, iced tea, and Erik’s favorite, grape Kool-Aid (‘cause he’s that hood). Both of your guest decline, T’Challa seeming solem but eager to tell you something.

 

“Where did you get these,” the guard asked, as you sat in the couch across from them. You smiled down at the Wakandan rug that took up most of your living room. 

 

“My dad, N’Jobu.”

 

T’Challa pursed his lips, hit with another unjustified wave of guilt.  _ This woman didn’t even know the bomb he was about to drop on her life _ .

 

“Nevermind that,” T’Challa spoke up. “We are here about your brother, Erik.”

 

You nodded, “Well obviously, why else would the king of a whole country be in my apartment. Is he in jail or somethin’?” The guard rolled her eyes but encouraged T’Challa to start talking.

 

“I don’t know how to say th-”

 

“T’Challa killed him. He tried to overthrow our monarchy so he died,” the guard said blatantly.

 

All of a sudden, you couldn’t breathe. Erik was dead. This couldn’t be true; Erik always got into trouble but- but, “No! He- He can’t be.” You angrily wiped the tears from your face, standing. “Get out.”

 

“Excuse me,” the guard said crudely. 

 

“Bitch, I said GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE! You think it’s just cool to roll up on a nigga and tell her you killed her brother. My whole fucking brotha’, man,” you break off, tears welling up again. T’Challa, stood up, trying to get closer to you. He didn’t flinch when you pulled away, just moved a bit slower as he approached you. “Y/N, it’s how he wanted it. He refused to go down in chains, pulled the knife out of his chest on his own.”

 

You closed your eyes, thinking about Erik saying those words, refusing to be bound by his own people; it made sense, in an Erik kind of way.

 

“What do you need?”

  
  


Wakanda was beautiful, just like N’Jobu told you. T’Challa and the guard, Okoye, let you see all the sights before they brought you into the palace then into a laboratory of sorts. There you met Shuri, T’Challa’s little sister and well… your little cousin, I guess. 

 

“Hello, Y/N. I’m Shuri, and… and I wish we’d met under better circumstances.” You looked at the young woman, no she was a  _ girl _ , skeptically before shaking her hand. “Uh, so… Erik?” Shuri’s eyes widened a bit, as if she was shocked to hear someone worried about Erik.

 

“Oh, he’s right this way.” Shuri led you to a chamber in the back of the lab. As soon as the door open, you rushed into the cold room. Erik looked soft there, like he was sleeping and not dead on a laboratory table. You took a deep breath, running a hand over the soft skin of his cheek.

 

“Hey, Cuz. I would’a poured one out for ya’ but they ain’t got no 40 out here,” you laughed sadly. You leaned over his face, pushing a little baby dread out of his face. “I told you not to do this shit, Erik. Look where it got you.”

 

You blinked hard a couple of times, willing away the tears. “Look where it got you, cuz.”


End file.
